Dobbs looked round mysteriously, and rising in his chair, leaned toward Van Zwieten. "I stole it," he said softly, "and I am willing to sell it--at a price. Think of it, Mr. Jones, a plan of campaign! Symons's plans! The Boers would be able to frustrate it easily." Van Zwieten looked his man up and down with a smile. His gaze alighted on those well-kept hands, which his visitor had placed on the desk to steady himself as he leaned forward. On the third finger of the left hand was a ring, and Van Zwieten recognized it. It was a gold signet ring with a crest. The moment he set eyes on it, the spy jumped to a conclusion, which happened to be the right one. He knew now who his visitor was, and he played him as a skillful angler plays a trout. Not a muscle of his face moved, not a flush or a look betrayed his newly-gained knowledge. But he smiled behind his golden beard to think that he was master of the situation. "So Mr. Mazaroff told you that I bought such things?" he said negligently. "Yes, and that you paid a large price for them." "Ah! and what would you call a fair price for these papers?" "Say a thousand pounds." "That is a very large price indeed. Too large, I fear, for me," said Van Zwieten, most amiably. "Perhaps you can see your way to make it lower?" The visitor could not refrain from a movement of satisfaction, which was duly noted by the astute Dutchman. "Well," he said, "I will do what I can to meet you." Van Zwieten smiled. He saw that the man was growing excited, and that in his excitement he would probably betray himself. "That is accommodating of you, Mr. Dobbs. But how can I be certain this plan is genuine?" "You can be perfectly certain, for I stole it from the War Office!" "Indeed. That is certainly first hand. But how did you, an American, get into the War Office?" "I have been a porter there for some time," said Dobbs, glibly. "I am allowed access to all the rooms. I saw those papers on a desk, and I took them. Mazaroff told me you paid well, so--well, I came to you. Come, now, you shall have them for five hundred pounds." "Too much, Mr. Dobbs." "Three hundred," said the man, trembling with eagerness. "Ah, that's more reasonable. Have you the papers with you?" "No, but if you will come to my lodgings I will give them to you. But I must have the money first." "Certainly. Will a check do?" "Oh, yes, a check will do right enough." Van Zwieten produced a check-book and bent over it to hide a smile. He drew the check, but before signing it looked up. "Of course this rather inculpates you," he said. "I suppose you know what it means if you were caught at this game?" "I'm willing to take the risk," said Dobbs, nervously. "Quite so. Just see if I've got your name correctly. Burton, isn't it?" "What do you mean?" "Wilfred Burton." "I--I--don't understand----"